Sacrifices
by Still believes Snivellus aka Heather Granger
Summary: Short fic about Severus, his past, and the future of Harry Potter. I suck at summaries Please read anyway! :)


**Sacrifices**

By

Heather

_A/N:  Ok so I was taking a break from studying and decided to read some rumors for fun.  One rumor that intrigued me was the fact that one book might be called The Green Flamed Torch.  So I started thinking of a fic based around Severus, because he is my favorite character.  I think that Dumbledore asked Severus at the end of Book 4  to go find where Lily put the Green Flamed torch that perhaps they once worked on together, and that is what Voldermort is searching for.  Severus finds out that she put it inside Harry, and thus explains some things mentioned in the story. _

            Sitting in my little office, with piles of mediocre papers and tests, my eyes begin to droop.  It has been four months since Potter's little announcement that the Dark Lord was back, although I had felt it for years.  I knew in my mind he was alive, and would continue living until he had gotten what he was so desperately searching for all those years ago.  Of course I know what the downfall of Voldermort will be like, because similarly all those years ago I had told Lily how, and when, his power would eventually kill him.  I should have known better than to let Lily be the one to hold the key, I should have seen her love for her son would have gotten in the way.  I suppose that is why I blame myself.  In part, I should have been the one, because it was I who saw the bigger picture.  Now unfortunately, the downfall of the Dark Lord will affect not only one life, but many others as well.

            I took my glasses off and threw them in the drawer, it was getting late, and I knew that I could be called at anytime to see the Dark Lord.  He was expecting the flame, but only I and Dumbledore knew the real location of the flame, and not telling him where it is could cost my life.  Minivera has asked me before why I risk my life to do this for Albus; my response is always the same, 'I have never thought of life as the only possibility.  Death is something that has never scared me, and if you had grown up in the manner in which I did, you would have the same dedication.'

            I walked into my chambers which extended off of my office and began the arduous process of stripping off the layers of clothing that I wore.  The black cloth though a material possession, comforted me in an odd sort of way.  Black, my signature color hides the grime that lies underneath; it protects me from stares and comments of what lies beneath.  My hooked nose, and sallow face is enough to provoke fear in all I pass.  Although like my body, my face wasn't always this pale and odd looking. But that was a different time, and I had different objectives then.

            I slowly took my arms out of my outer cloak, and hung it on its appropriate hanger.  Next to come off were the boots, I sat on my bed and peeled away the shoes made of leather that allot for echoing footsteps when necessary.  

Finally I get down to my undershirt, which perhaps hurt me the most, for I stare at the bare-chested man in front of me in the mirror, and see a body that is not mine, for my body at a time was healthy and strong, now it is meager and scarred.  In the mirror I see the lashes of an angry father, the bite marks of a certain dog, and perhaps the worst the deep gashes that were inflicted upon me after my stay in Azkaban.  Black isn't the only man unjustly put in that hell.  The gashes are not from the Dementors, no they are from the many Death Eaters who are now dead, or mostly dead rotting away in Azkaban.  As I was released from my worst nightmare not so long ago, Death Eater after Death Eater, tore threw my flesh, knowing now that I was no longer on their side and was truly never on their side.

Harry Potter isn't the only person with scars in this world, the only difference is, my scars run deeper than the surface and I like the real Alastor Moody, am a man in whom I no longer know.  My face and body repulse me, and would in no doubt disgust others.  I am who I am, and pray every night that there will be another ending to this story, but in the end Harry Potter will kill Voldermort, not because he is stronger, but because the flame, the flame that Lily and I had discovered and crafted is inside of him. In the end Potter will give the ultimate sacrifice, his life, and I, the same.  I will, like Lily, be too weak to see him harmed, and give my life to him.


End file.
